


you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be

by weasleysking



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Will Herondale, Demons, Fluff, Fun 1800s things like dances and pretty dresses, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, London Shadowhunter Institute, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, POV Will Herondale, Parabatai Bond, Parabatai Feels, Sick Jem Carstairs, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleysking/pseuds/weasleysking
Summary: Later, much later, when he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling through the darkness, all he could see were Jem’s silvery-black eyes, the shape of his delicate face - he remembered the heat when their fingers brushed and he’d felt a small scar beneath his touch on Jem’s left hand. He imagined his own fingers, cool and calloused, tracing a star around the scar. He felt comfortable in his own skin for the first time since he’d left Wales, he felt hopeful for a new day tomorrow. He did not want to let that go. Jem was dying already; he reminded himself when his subconscious went to reprimand his mind for feeling happy and alive because of another person. He is dying already. Your love will not kill him. It will only make both of your lives better, even if it was only for a little while.Will decided, in that moment, that James Carstairs would be his loophole. James Carstairs would be his chance to feel whole again. James Carstairs would be his great sin.snippets of will and jem year by year; 1873 - 1878
Relationships: Jem Carstairs & Will Herondale, Jem Carstairs/Tessa Gray, Jem Carstairs/Will Herondale, Tessa Gray/Will Herondale
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29





	1. 1873

**Author's Note:**

> hi lovelies!!  
> most of you will prob be new around my works as ive never published any of my shadowhunters work. pls let me know if u enjoy my writing and want me to post more of my tsc work! <3  
> so there is definetly a LOT of will pining over jem in this because i refuse to believe there is ANY heterosexual explanation for 'jem is my great sin' - like, ok will, we all know ur bi.  
> however ultimatley this fic is not a love story between jem and will as jem does not return the feelings - this is a story about the bond they share and how goddamn unbrekable they are, through thick and thin, and about their development from their first meeting to their last whilst jem is still human (pre brother zachariah)  
> i rlly hope u enjoy!! thank u for reading xx

**London Institute, 1873**

* * *

“Will?” Charlotte eased the door of the London Institute’s training room open. “Will, are you there?” 

Will had only been at the institute for six months. In those six months he was very aware he’d been nothing but snappish and cold to the kindly Charlotte and her husband Henry, their servants and the only other person his age, a girl of the name Jessamine whom he detested. Sometimes, as he lay awake on his bed during his sleepless nights, he caught himself wishing there was a way he could repay Henry and Charlotte’s kindness, but he had to tell himself off for that. That made it seem like he cared about them, and he didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

Twelve year old Will turned towards where Charlotte hovered, the door parted slightly in her wake. “What is it Charlotte?” He snapped, twisting his face into a scowl, running the hand that wasn’t gripping a throwing knife tightly through his damp hair. 

“I’ve been looking for you for hours,” she said with some asperity, but asperity had never had much of an affect on Will. 

“Do you recall what I told you yesterday, that we were welcoming a new arrival to the institute today?” 

“Oh, I remembered,” Will said, and threw the knife. It stuck just outside the target, which further deepened his bad mood. “I just don’t care.” 

The boy behind Charlotte, whom Will had failed to notice until that moment, stifled a laugh. 

Will turned in surprise, trying not to show it on his face. Charlotte stepped into the room and ushered the boy in front of her. 

Time slowed. 

Charlotte was saying something, quite probably about how the boy was simply to ignore him when he was moody, and how Will should really be more polite, but it was as though his ears had filled with water. He could focus on nothing but the boy, his own age, stood before him. 

He was pale and thin, but his cheeks were flushed slightly red, as though he was recovering from a bad fever. The flush didn’t make him any less hauntingly beautiful - if anything, it added to the character that stood before him. His curling dark hair was streaked with silver as though he was aging rapidly. His eyes were silvery-black, shining with personality, complimenting his delicate face. He was half smiling at Will. He didn’t look nervous. 

“Will Herondale,” Charlotte said, and Will tuned back in, “may I introduce to you James Carstairs of the Shanghai institute.” 

“Jem,” the boy said promptly, “everyone calls me Jem.” He spoke with a soft voice, British, which surprised Will. He took a further step into the room, taking in Will curiously. “You can too.” 

It took Will a second to snap out of his trance, remembering he was not to have such thoughts about anyone. 

“Well, if everyone calls you that, it’s hardly any special favor to me, is it?” His tone was acidic. He was well aware of how capable he was of being unpleasant when he remembered his circumstances. “I think you will find, James Carstairs,” he continued before he could stop himself, “that if you keep to yourself and let me alone, it will be the best outcome for both of us.” 

He expected the boy to look hurt, at the very least, but he only smiled a little, as though Will were a thoroughly un-intimidating kitten that had tried to bite him. “I haven’t trained since I left Shanghai,” he said. “I could use a partner - someone to spar with.” 

_ So could I. I would be honored to train with you.  _

“So could I,” said Will, used to ignoring his inner monologue and using his sharp tongue instead. “But I need someone who can keep up with me, not some sickly creature that looks as if he’s doddering off to the grave. Although I supposed you might be useful for target practice.” 

By the ashen look of horror on Charlotte’s face, Will had hit the nail on the head with his spite, as usual. Jem’s expression, however, had not changed. 

“If by ‘doddering off to the grave’ you mean dying, then I am.” He spoke it matter of factly. “I have about two more years to live, three if I am lucky, or so they tell me.” 

Will could not hide his shock; he felt his cheeks flush red. His mind was racing. Here before him stood this beautiful boy, and when Will met his eyes he felt a spark of something he had not felt since he’d opened the pxiys in his father’s office. He could not pinpoint the feeling - whether it be hope, love, promise - but whatever it was also came with warm relief flooding his whole body. He watched in silence as Jem wandered towards the target, yanking the knife out of the wood then turning and walking directly up to Will. Delicate as he seemed, they were only inches from each other in height, and when their eyes met only a foot from each other, Jem smiled at Will again. “You may use me for target practice if you wish,” Jem said very casually, as though he was talking about the weather. “It seems to me I have little to fear from such an exercise, as you are not a very good shot.” Before Will could retort, Jem turned, took aim, and let the blade fly. It landed directly in the heart of the target. He turned back to face Will, who’s mind was racing trying to make sense of his thoughts and a quick decision on whether or not what he wanted was going to benefit this boy. “Or,” Jem continued. “You could allow me to teach you. For I am a very good shot.” 

Will felt Charlotte’s eyes on him, but he only had eyes for the silver boy. He let his hard expression dissolve a little and he bit his lip. “You’re not  _ really  _ dying, are you?” He asked. If Jem was telling the truth - if he was what he said he was - then perhaps this was it. Perhaps Jem was the loophole Will had been searching for. 

Jem nodded. “So they tell me.”

“I am sorry,” Will said before he could stop himself. 

“No,” Jem said softly. He took a knife from his belt and held it out, hilt first, to Will. “Don’t be ordinary like that. Don’t say you’re sorry. Say you’ll train with me.” 

Will cast his eyes towards the knife, then back at Jem’s face. 

_ He’s dying,  _ Will told himself.  _ He is dying already.  _

Making a split second decision to never seem ordinary to James Carstairs, Will reached out and took the knife, his eyes never leaving Jem’s face. Their fingers brushed briefly. Jem’s hands were hot, the same temperature as the relief that was flooding Will’s veins as he felt his broken heart piecing back together, imperceptibly but surely. 

“I’ll train with you,” Will said. 

Later, much later, when he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling through the darkness, all he could see were Jem’s silvery-black eyes, the shape of his delicate face - he remembered the heat when their fingers brushed and he’d felt a small scar beneath his touch on Jem’s left hand. He imagined his own fingers, cool and calloused, tracing a star around the scar. He felt comfortable in his own skin for the first time since he’d left Wales, he felt hopeful for a new day tomorrow. He did not want to let that go. Jem was dying already; he reminded himself when his subconscious went to reprimand his mind for feeling happy and alive because of another person.  _ He is dying already. Your love will not kill him. It will only make both of your lives better, even if it was only for a little while.  _

Will decided, in that moment, that James Carstairs would be his loophole. James Carstairs would be his chance to feel whole again. James Carstairs would be his great sin. 

William Herondale fell asleep peacefully for the first time in six months. 


	2. 1874

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> will, jem, a halpha demon and the first of many demonic battles together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lovelies! i hope ur enjoying this story so far! i'm on tumblr @icorrect-tsc if u want to come lol at some shadowhunters content with me hehe. thank u all so much for reading, hope u enjoy the new chapter!

**Greenwich Park, 1874**

* * *

“William,” Jem called to his best friend from the footpath. “Charlotte trusted us to patrol alone for the first time. Please do not ruin it by falling into the Thames.” 

Will grinned down at the boy he now considered a brother from where he walked precariously along the edge of the Thames. “I won’t fall,” he said. “I have a stability rune on.” He jumped down anyway, purely because Jem asked him too, and he’d do anything Jem asked him too. “I’m too good of a shadowhunter to fall.” 

Jem hummed in amusement and gripped the cane Henry and Charlotte had gifted him for his thirteenth birthday that doubled as a weapon tighter. 

It was late, London was dark, and the two just-teenage boys felt very proper being allowed to patrol by themselves for the first time. Granted, there had been very little demonic activity nearby recently, which probably made it a little easier for Charlotte to let them go, but it was thrilling all the same. Even Will, who’s new approach to trying not to care about people was pretending he was too cool to feel anything, had slipped up a little and thanked Charlotte excitedly. He hit himself for it later, but he was too pleased to be out and about with Jem patrolling alone to let it ruin his good mood. He’d worry about that later. 

It wasn’t abnormal that he and Jem would leave the institute in the evening for a walk to spend time alone - the only time Will felt like he could really be himself - but it was later than they’d usually be up and the two boys were thrilled. Jem had been well for the last few weeks, only adding to Will’s good mood. They were coming up a year of knowing each other, Will had realized a few days prior. When he was in a foul mood, Jem’s words from their first meeting -  _ “I only have about two years to live - three if I’m lucky”  _ \- haunted him. Every night Will prayed it would be longer. Every night Will thought about how different his life would be without James Carstairs. How miserable it would be. He watched his friend now, who’d stopped just ahead of him and was looking at something on the ground. He watched Jem’s silver hair, a little longer than he usually had it, brush his forehead in the gentle breeze. He watched Jem blink, his long lashes fluttering and his delicate face scrunched up ever so slightly around his nose in a way Will had come to know meant Jem was thinking. Will had come to know every one of Jem’s expressions. 

“Will?” Jem said with uncertainty. “Will, come and look at this.” 

Will shook himself out of his trance and started forward a few steps to where Jem was crouched on the ground. When Will arrived beside his friend, he saw Jem was concentrating on a small puddle of a black, sticky blood like substance. 

“Is that demon ichor?” Will asked. “Gross,” he added as an afterthought. 

“I think so,” Jem replied, frowning. “Which means…” 

“Demons,” said Will with a grim sort of pleased expression. 

The boys continued their path, both clutching their weapons a little tighter. Will was a little too excited about the prospect of them running into a demon, but Jem didn’t mind. It was one of the many things Will loved about his friend - he liked Will for Will. Even when he was in the foulest of moods, even when said something terrible and felt awful about it later but refused to apologize, he loved Will at his best and his worst. 

The path alongside the Thames was empty late on the cold night, so a sudden movement out of the corner of Will’s eye made him stop short. 

“Did you see that?” He hissed at Jem, who nodded slowly, gripping his cane, looking solemn. 

The two boys turned around slowly, and behind them, shaking and spitting was a medium sized Halpha demon. 

“It looks like a pigeon,” Will commented, his first instinct to make a sly remark. The demon snarled, it’s feathered body and thick scaly wings rearing. 

“Oh Will,” Jem said, pulling out a blade. “Look. You insulted it.” 

The Halpha launched itself at the two boys, and their fight ensued. Though the demon can’t have been taller than Jem, it was large, and it’s razor sharp talons sliced through Will’s arm when he jumped behind it, attempting to cut it’s large, sharp beak. Jem, in front of the demon, plunged his blade into its beak, hanging on tightly, and the demon squealed angrily. 

“Get the wings, Will!” Jem cried, and Will, knowing what Jem was about to say before he finished the sentence, ignoring the stinging pain in his arm, managed to slice his seraph blade through one of the wings, cutting it clean off. The demon let out a shriek and shook its head, leaving Jem to swing off and hit the ground with an unceremonious smack. It turned on Will, who clutched his seraph blade. 

“You threw him on the ground!” Will said angrily. He could see Jem getting up slowly, so he was more annoyed than worried. “You pigeon livered ratbag!” And with that, before the demon could react, Will drove his seraph blade through its heart. The Halpha exploded into a million tiny pieces and left a terrible stench behind. Will, pausing only briefly to admire his and Jem’s handiwork, turned quickly to scan his surroundings for his friend. 

“I’m okay!” Jem said, as Will hurried over to him. He definitely seemed fine, which eased Will’s nerves. “You’re not,” he added, as Will got closer to him, and he yanked Will’s arm out towards him before the other boy could stop him. 

“Stop fussing,” Will said, trying to hide how much his arm actually stung. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t have to pretend,” Jem said, not unkindly, pulling out his stele. “It’s just me.” 

Will didn’t say anything.  _ He’s right,  _ the voice in his head told him sullenly.  _ It’s Jem. You can be honest.  _

He didn’t say anything as Jem, gently but definitely, traced an  _ iratze  _ on Will’s arm. He shuddered a little, but whether it was from the throbbing of the wound as it healed or from Jem’s fingertips as he ran then down Will’s arm as an act of comfort after, he didn’t know. He looked up from his arm and directly into Jem’s silvery eyes. They held their gaze for a moment, looking steadily at each other. Will, overwhelmed by the depth to Jem’s eyes he didn't like to dwell on, dropped the gaze only a moment later. “Thank you, James,” he said, realizing his arm had stopped hurting. Jem smiled at his friend gently, then turned to go back the way they came. 

“Pigeon livered rat-bag?” Jem asked curiously, grinning. Will grinned back. 

“I had to come up with something on the spot!”

Jem laughed. “Come,” he beckoned to Will. “We must report what happened back at the institute.” 

Will followed swiftly behind his friend, feeling rather pleased with himself as he remembered he and Jem had just won their first fight  _ together.  _

“Hey, do you think Jessie would like it if I brought back some of this ichor for her?” 

“Shut up, Will.” 


	3. 1875

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jem and will's parabati ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for all the support you've given this fic so far! it doesnt go unnoticed! merry christmas, and if you donr celebrate it, i hope ur having a wonderful day regardless. <3

**Idris, 1875**

* * *

Will stared out across Alicante as the sun set. The sky was orange and pink and red all at once, and despite feeling sick with nerves, he managed to admire the incandescent glow. He was atop the roof of the accords hall, far enough to the back and lying down so that anyone entering the hall below couldn’t see him. In a half hour, he’d be called in there by the silent brothers; Charlotte was in there with them now. Henry was on his way over from the Branwell home in Idris, where he’d been busy, and Charlotte had told him to come half an hour earlier than he needed to, sure he would be late otherwise. Jessamine was hiding in her room at the Fairchild manor where Charlotte’s aunt had allowed them all to stay. She had refused to come to the ceremony after Will told her that her nose looked particularly large that morning. It didn’t help that two silent brothers would be there too. Will did not know where Jem was. 

It was rare, these days, that Will and Jem didn’t know each other’s whereabouts. Jem had joked, on their way here, that the two were practically Parabatai anyway, and did they really need to do a whole ceremony in Idris for it? Wil l had laughed, but deep down, the comment dropped into his stomach and began swirling around with the other nerves, nerves telling him this was the wrong thing to do, he was cursing himself all over again, thoughts Jem had spoken aloud to him when Will had first asked him to be Parabatai and he’d become very upset. Later, he’d come back to Will after he’d spent some time alone and said yes, yes, please, I want this. 

Will wanted it too. He knew why Jem had the reaction he did; the boy was dying, and even when he was dying all his thoughts were rooted in selflessness - worry for what Will would do, would be without him, because his death was inevitable. Will had been searching for a cure for about eight months now with no luck, only many reckless experiences near opium dens and with one particularly nasty werewolf that had resulted in injury and a severe lecture from both Charlotte and Jem. He wasn’t giving up, but he wasn’t hopeful, either. 

Will thought about it again now, tried to imagine what the pain of Jem being gone would feel like, what it would feel like to have half of his soul, half of his heart, split down the middle and shattered, the invisible string that would tie him and Jem together cut in half. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Will?” Jem’s voice came from behind him, and Will opened his eyes and turned to see Jem clambering over the rooftop to join him. “Are you alright?” 

“How did you know I was up here?” Will asked, ignoring the question and the pain he felt in his heart left over from imagining what life without Jem would entail. Jem shrugged, and Will knew what he meant. It was instinct, pure instinct, when it came to each other. Jem smelt of burnt sugar; sweet and fiery, the smell that lingered when he’d used a lot of yin fen. He was preparing himself, Will realised, for the ceremony, which would require a lot of energy. He looked at his friend, into his eyes, and looked away again quickly. If he wasn’t already nervous, he certainly was now; though there was no one in the world Will felt as naturally himself around, there was a lingering feeling of anxiety when they got too close or their fingers brushed; fourteen was a strange age, he’d told himself - it was perfectly normal to feel awkward about people touching you, getting too close. 

“Are you ready?” Jem asked softly. Will turned, after an agonizing minute of wondering if he really was ready, and lied through his teeth. 

“I’m ready.” 

The two boys jumped down from the roof, in unison, landing softly on their feet. They headed into the hall, where Charlotte stood at the front, a Silent Brother on each side and the warlock, Magnus Bane, whom the boys knew from business at the institute. The two boys waited for her signal, then walked to the middle of the room. They stood three feet apart, and Will couldn’t have avoided Jem’s gaze if he tried. Magnus cast a cold, blue spell around them that encircled them, locking their eyes together for good. A Silent Brother stood on either side of the circle. Magnus backed away, looking fairly bored, and the brother to Will’s right spoke. 

_ James Carstairs,  _ he said, his voice ringing through the boys minds, overpowering all other thoughts Will was having.  _ Your vows.  _

Jem’s delicate face tightened with a sort of stoic determination Will hadn’t seen before, and he stepped forward, grasping Will’s hands with his own, opening his mouth to speak. 

“Wither thou goest, I will go,” he spoke clearly, his eyes on Will, wide but sure. “Where thou diest, will I die; and there, I will be buried, the Angel do so to me. And more also, if aught but death part thee and me.” 

It happened quickly; Will felt a shock go down his spine and knew Jem had felt it too - they both stiffened and relaxed almost immediately, palms still grasping each others. Suddenly, Will felt stronger than before. More prepared. The brother to his left spoke this time. 

_ William Herondale,  _ he said.  _ Your vows.  _

Will spoke, willing his voice not to shake, squeezing Jem’s hands. 

“Wither thou goest, I will go,” he watched Jem’s eyes follow him, and traced Jem’s outline with his own. “Where thou diest, will I die; and there I will be buried, the Angel do so to me. And more also, if aught but death part thee and me.” 

A second shock, down the other side of their bodies, jolted them again. It didn’t hurt. 

_ You will now complete the ceremony with the Parabatai rune,  _ the first brother spoke. Charlotte stepped forward and handed Jem his stele. Jem released hands with Will and took it from her, smiling nervously. She smiled back. Will lifted his shirt for Jem to draw on his chest; the place of his choosing. The stele burned in a different way to usual; less fiery, more warmth. Jem’s hand, resting on Will’s chest as he drew, was hot. Will hoped he wasn’t flushing. Once Jem had finished, he handed his stele back to Charlotte, who handed Will’s to him. Jem turned on his side, and Will placed a hand below where he would draw the rune, on Jem’s left shoulder. Jem’s skin was as hot as the skin on his hands, but Will was more concerned with drawing the rune perfectly. The second he finished, a third jolt caught them both off guard, instinctively steadying each other. 

Will looked into his Parabati’s eyes. They were glistening with happiness, and in one motion, all Will’s fears that this was the wrong choice melted away. He felt whole in a way he never had before, not even with his family in Wales; it was a completely different sensation, a fire Jem had set spreading through his veins at a rapid pace, forcing newfound strength and a wave of protectiveness for his James. 

“If aught but death part thee and me,” he whispered before he could stop himself, and Jem, still clutching his hand, smiled at him so wholly Will thought his heart would never break again. 


	4. 1876

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jem is sicker than usual, and will scares himself half to death with thoughts about a future without his parabati.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovelies! i'm sorry it's been a while, but i'm pleased with this chapter, even tho it's short. i hope you're all well and that you enjoy :)

**London Institute, 1876**

* * *

“Will you stop that?” Will snapped at Jessamine frostily as she paced tightly up and down the hallway outside of Jem’s room. “You’re like an elephant. You’re going to wear holes in the carpet with those clown feet of yours.” 

“You’re not the only one who’s stressed, Will,” she hissed back venomously. 

Will laughed cruelly. “I wasn’t under the impression that Jem dying would have that big of an effect on you, Jessie. He’s barely in your peripheral vision, not nearly close enough to you for you to stare down your large nose at.” 

“Stop it!” She stamped her foot, sudden surprising tears splashing down her front. “Just stop it Will! Stop acting like you’re the only one who cares about Jem! I know it-” her voice hitched, and Will felt, if possible, more awful than he already did - “I know it seems like I don’t care about anyone except myself, but Jem…” She raised her chin and stared him dead in the eye, tear stains prominent on her delicate cheeks. “Jem is different. He has only ever treated me with respect and kindness, even when I haven’t given him the same. He… he doesn’t deserve this.” And Will, staring at Jessamine with considerably more analytical eyes than usual, watched her walk away. 

The fifteen year old put his head in his hands, biting down on his tongue hard until it tasted metallic. Jem had bed ridden due to his sickness before, but he’d never been this bad. Charlotte had called a Silent Brother to the institute that morning, and she’d refused, however kindly, to let Will in the room while the Brother examined Jem. Will hadn’t the energy to argue. He’d felt odd all morning. He hadn’t slept the previous night. 

He’d gone into his parabati’s room late after Jem had skipped dinner, claiming a headache. Will hadn't been too worried; they’d been in a battle the day before and Jem usually got tired a day later, the effects of his sickness weighing him down. He’d given his brother some space before entering his room later that night, books not satisfying his need for interaction with the boy who understood him like no other. It was only once Jem didn’t reply when Will knocked softly, once Will opened the door, frowning, that he realised Jem’s headache should have concerned him more. Feeling a wave of nausea wash over him as he spotted Jem’s pale, delicate body passed out, slumped by his bed rather than on it, blood on his handkerchief half falling out of his imobile hand, he’d yelled so loudly for Charlotte he thought his throat would tear. His cry had aroused Jem, who, very out of it, stared up at his parabatai as Will lifted him onto his bed. 

“Will?” Jem had mumbled, his eyes bleary. 

“It’s me,” Will had replied, trying to keep his voice calm, though the rest of him was utterly terrified. “It’s me, Jem.  _ Charlotte _ !” Will yelled again, his hands over Jem’s ears as not to upset him. “ _ Charlotte _ !” 

Charlotte burst into the room in her nightclothes, Henry right behind her and Sophie hovering in the doorway, looking torn between running, terrified, to Jem’s bedside as a friend, and asking what was needed, fulfilling her job as a servant. 

“Sophie,” Charlotte said, her demeanor as calm and in control as ever, but her voice shaking as she kneeled beside Jem's bed, placing her hand over his clammy forehead. “Please bring some cool water and a cloth as quickly as you can.” 

Sophie obeyed, and Charlotte turned to Will who stood, ashen faced, staring at his friend’s crumpled body. 

“Will,” she said gently. “Will, get Jem’s medicine.” 

Will guided his trembling hands to the fireplace, where the box of  _ yin fen  _ sat, with only a thin layer of powder coating the bottom. He mentaly cursed himself for not asking Jem if he needed a refill recently, but handed the box to Charlotte. She stared into it, then looked back up at Will. 

“I’ll go,” he said, without waiting for Charlotte to ask. “I’ll be back before he notices I’m gone.” 

He didn’t look at Jem as he left the room. 

He raced out of the institute, not bothering with a coat or a hat, not caring that it was freezing or that he only had his stele on him. He’d mounted Balios at the speed of light, and Balios, registering Will’s frantic pace, matched it. But galloping through London to the opium dens still took at least fifteen minutes, no matter how much Will urged his old horse, who faithfully kept up his pace. Will focused everything on his speed; he didn’t want to think about anything else. He  _ couldn’t  _ think about anything else; the reason this level of urgency was required. Terror flooded his bones even as he avoided thoughts of his parabati’s current state. 

Will and Balios thundered around the final corner, and Will dismounted before his horse had even come to a full stop. His transaction took four slow, terrifying minutes, which Will encouraged along with a few death threats despite his lack of weaponry, urged on by stress turned anger, then managed, with shaking hands, to once again mount his horse and gallop through the deserted late night streets of freezing London. 

Now, in the early hours of the morning, the fifteen year old sat outside Jem’s room, alone, having been abandoned by Jesamine - Charlotte, Henry and the Silent Brother were inside, and Sophie was nowhere to be seen. Not that he particularly wanted company anyway. No one understood what he was going through with the dark cloud of Jem’s probable death hanging above them all. Jessamine could claim she cared about Jem, and Sophie, Charlotte and Henry could have all the love for him in the world, and still it wouldn’t come close to what WillIam Herondale felt for James Carstairs. 

Jem’s words from their first meeting -  _ “I have about two more years to live, three if I am lucky, or so they tell me.”  _ \- Had done two things for Will. The first was begin to mend his broken heart when he realised that meant Jem was a loophole in his curse. The second was that the words haunted him; they followed him around like a ghost, reminding him constantly of Jem’s impending fate, that one day, one day  _ soon,  _ Jem would leave him and he would once again be completely and utterly alone. Parabatai link or not, losing Jem would be losing a part of Will. 

Will didn’t think he could handle that sort of heartbreak. 

The door to Jem’s room creaked open a half hour later and Will whipped his head out of his hands so fast he hurt his neck. Charlotte and the Silent Brother appeared, looking tired, but the lines of stress on her forehead had evaporated. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Charlotte said softly, watching Will carefully as he exhaled and fell back against the wall for support.  _ He’s going to be okay.  _

“Brother Enoch believes Jem was taking the  _ yin fen  _ a little too sporadically recently, and the strain of a few battles in the last week wasn’t helping,” Charlotte explained, and she continued to talk, but Will tuned her out, itching to see his Parabatai. 

“Just go in, Will,” Charlotte sighed when she realised Will wasn’t listening. He’d only registered five of her words:  _ He’s going to be okay.  _ She watched Will as he nodded at her then rushed into Jem’s room, shutting the door behind him in a whirl. 

_ William Herondale knows his Parabati only has so long, does he not?  _ Brother Enoch turned to Charlotte. She looked at the closed door with sad eyes. 

“He knows,” she replied, trying not to think of the haunting image of an even more broken Will once Jem was inevitably gone. “I’m just not sure he can afford to think that rationally about Jem’s fate very much of the time. None of us can.” 

“Come to visit me on my sickbed?” Jem said once Will had shut the door and turned to face his friend, who now had a little more colour in his cheeks and was propped up by an array of pillows. “Nice of you to drop by.” 

Will ignored the chair nearby and instead, settled himself down right next to Jem. 

“Thought I should probably say hello,” Will said in his usual joking manner, but his voice sounded a little strained. “Make sure you knew I thought you were an okay guy.” 

“Your words are heartfelt,” Jem smiled, and Will tried to smile back, but it failed him. Jem, not liking such a quiet, downtrodden version of his friend, grabbed his hand suddenly. 

“Will,” Jem said, so quietly Will only heard because Jem sat right beside him, and was staring at him. “I’m okay.” 

“I know,” Will said back, his eyes meeting Jem’s silvery ones and then dancing down his beautiful, delicate face. “I know you are.” 

Jem squeezed his hand tighter, and Will wished the relief of knowing that Jem would be okay for the next little while would have the courtesy to stretch forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! come chat w me on twitter @elenaclqire if you want!  
> i'll update asap :) <3


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